Page 23 of The Watcher's Bride

“Then why did they break in?” I ask. I don’t like the sound of this. I know about Nora’s past, but she’s distanced herself from Quinn.

“Max, I don’t want to make you more agitated,” she says warily.

“It’ll help distract me from going after that prick,” I answer tightly.

“Okay, but will you come and sit down, please?”

“I should make you tea, for the shock,” I mutter. Starting to feel a bit more like myself. At least the part of me that I can be when I’m Max.

“Tea would be nice,” she agrees.

I head to her kitchen and switch on the kettle. The small act of making the tea helps diffuse some of my nervous energy and by the time I return to the living room I’m a lot calmer.

“So, do you know who might have a reason to break into your apartment?” I ask carefully as I hand her the steaming mug of sweet tea.

She nods nervously. “I don’t know how to…” she pauses, then looks at me. “You’ll probably run for the hills when I tell you this,” she gives a nervous laugh.

“Nothing you could say would make me run from you. I told you, you’re mine. I’m not ever letting you go.”

Nora takes a deep breath before speaking. “I lied to you before, when I said that the masked man you saw was just a customer. He’s been stalking me.”

I’d been secretly pleased that she hadn’t told ‘Max’ about my nighttime visits. It made me feel like there was something special between us. Was she going to confess now? I keep my voice steady as I ask, “You think he did this?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Honestly, I don’t know. If he’s been following me, then he knew I wasn’t home. Unless he wanted to take something of mine, something of little value as a kind of creepy talisman?”

“Could it have been anyone else?”

I see something flash across Nora’s face, and she bites her lip nervously.

“You can trust me, Nora,” I encourage her. I’ve been watching her for weeks, researching her since my uncle told me of his plans. I saw nothing to suggest that she was being targeted by anyone.

“My father. Or at least, his men. My father is a dangerous man. I ran away from him five years ago. I think maybe he’s found me,” she admits.

Eamonn Quinn. The bastard turns up like a bad penny. “Do you think he wants to hurt you?”

“He already has. If he’s found me, it won’t be long until he comes for me. He’ll either kill me or sell me to the highest bidder,” she says gravely.

“Nora, look at me. I promise that as long as I’m with you, I’ll never let him or anyone else hurt you, do you hear me?” I tell her. She doesn’t realize how far I would go to keep Quinn away from her. After what he did to my family I’d happily send him to meet his maker.

She moves closer to me, and I can feel the heat of her skin. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, I have the overwhelming urge to kiss her. But I’m afraid she’ll pull away. Or maybe she won’t. When Nora has me, I want it to be me, and not Max. I’ve seen the way her body responds when she feels my eyes on her. I want her to crave me, to desire me with a need almost bordering on insanity.

I think she would accept Max tonight, but I don’t want him to have her.

“I think I just want to go to bed,” Nora says softly, looking utterly defeated.

“Look, Nora, I know you’re probably freaked out about the break-in and what that bastard did to you, but there’s no way I’m letting you sleep alone here with a busted door. Why don’t you stay the night at my place? I can sleep on the couch, and I’ll fix the door first thing when the hardware stores are open,” I offer, going into protector mode.

She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving Josef.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. He can come with you.” I sense her hesitation and add, “I’m not taking no for an answer here. I have a hammer and nails, so we can rig the door shut to stop opportunistic junkies from breaking into the place, but there’s no way I’m letting you sleep here tonight.”

“Alright,” she finally agrees, too exhausted to argue.

While Nora takes a shower, I gather everything she and her cat might need and then try and straighten up her apartment. I’m still fighting the urge to hurt someone. Mike is first on my list—and then whoever did this. But I push it down, my father always said that revenge was a meal best served cold. While that is true, sometimes it’s good to just go and kill the bastards.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” she says as she emerges from the bathroom. She’s dressed in an oversized sweater and a pair of loose yoga pants.

I’d put everything back in its rightful place, well, near enough. The number of times I’ve been in her house when she’s not at home means that I probably know the layout as well as shedoes. But not wanting to draw attention to that, I intentionally put a few items in the wrong place. Now the only sign of the break-in is the splintered door.

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